Revolution
by Agent 0r4ng3
Summary: Natasha Ivanova never expected a single visit to Mission City to change her entire life; to alter the entire human race so profoundly. None of the Cybertronians could have known what would happen; how one small moment could change the war. But it did, and now they're all trying to cope. Somehow. TAKES PLACE AFTER T1/2007 MOVIE ONLY.
1. Chapter 1: Mission City

**CHAPTER 1: MISSION CITY**

* * *

**AN: I don't own anything associated with Transformers, or any other brands mentioned in this work of fiction. This disclaimer applies to the entirety of this story.**

**Rating: T**

**Warnings for entire story:** Cursing, natural (and man-made) disaster, blood, death, canon-typical violence, slash (if a relationship between two asexual creatures can be termed as 'slash') and mentions of threesome. ...I think that's it. If a certain chapter needs a specific warning, I'll try to remember to throw one up there.

This story uses elements of **G1, Prime**, the **2007 movie**, and **Beast Wars**, in a strange amalgamation. Let's see how well they work together, shall we?~

* * *

I sighed, rubbing my temples with my right hand. Amy had been working the slots for hours. She'd been liberally indulging in alcohol, and I knew that tomorrow she was going to have one hell of a hangover, as drunk as she was and how long she'd been drinking.

I sipped at my drink slowly, wishing that the ice cubes hadn't melted as quickly.

How she'd managed to drag me all the way from Toronto, just to go to Vegas for her twenty-first birthday and do what typical of-age people do, I wasn't sure. Granted, I'd been older than twenty-one for a few years. This was probably part of the reason that she wanted me to come with her. That, and she thought I worked too hard.

She was giggling and flirting with a good-looking blond guy with long hair - or was that a woman? I tilted my head slightly, inspecting.

After a moment, I still wasn't sure if the being was male or female. Eh, didn't matter. If it was a woman though, she was probably seriously drunk.

Amy didn't typically flirt with women, but it had happened in the past.

I sipped my scotch slowly, the rich taste delicious and vibrant on my tongue, the bite of alcohol burning slightly on the way down.

About half an hour later - or nearly down to the bottom of my glass of scotch - Amy flounced over to me, mascara running and eyes too bright. Her breath stunk of alcohol.

I waved my hand in front of my face. "Spazz, you stink."

She giggled. "I met this really hot guy, Mark, and he wants to go to this bar - you coming?"  
I was impressed with her level of thinking - and that it was a guy, apparently - in coming to me about some guy who was trying to pick her up in all her drunk glory.

"Bad idea, Amy. STI's are rampant, you don't want to get a cauliflower growing between your legs."

She snickered again, weaving in place and I steadied her with my hand. A look came over her face, and I sighed. She was totally done for the night.

"C'mon, bedtime for the trashed birthday girl."

She muttered something into my ear, ruffling my curly hair with her booze-laden breath before slumping like a ragdoll against my shoulder.

I tucked an arm under her shoulder and around her waist.

"Let's go," I said, managing to haul her out the door on her spindly heels, red dress waving back and forth with her slightly staggering steps.

"But… Mark," she slurred, drawing out the 'K.'

"Mark's a sleaze-bag, Spazz, you're better off without that piece in your bed."

"Buzzkill," she grumbled, and I snickered slightly.

Finally, I managed to drag her back to the hotel, forced about three cups of water into her, stripped off her dress and heels and tucked her into her bed, hanging the dress up on the bathroom door.

I got ready for bed, and crawled in, considering what I should do tomorrow as Amy would be completely hungover all day.

One of the reasons I'd come with her was to see the Hoover Dam. That was only about half an hour away; I was a morning person, and I'd be awake at four in the morning. Habit.

So, I'd take the car we'd driven down and check it out. Amy didn't much like nature, she was more of a party girl, so I'd take tomorrow for myself.

Hopefully, I'd make it to the Hoover Dam at sunrise.

All this sorted, I relaxed into bed and squashed the pillow with my hands. The bed wasn't very comfortable. And who knew what lived in the sheets previously.

I fell asleep fitfully.

* * *

The next morning, I was up before the sun was. I had a cup of black coffee and was out the door. Amy was still snoring in the bed, sprawled across the covers, one tanned leg sticking out, pink toenails perfectly done.

I jumped into the little car we'd careened all the way to Vegas in, the Subaru somehow making it the whole way without a mishap. Amy's boyfriend - a jackass of a med student who thought he knew everything - had loaned it to her on the condition she bring him back some good alcohol.

Driving by myself was nice, although finding a good station was impossible. Amy liked any music that was popular now, which I hated. I clicked the radio off and opened the windows a little, shivering at the crisp morning air. Should have brought a sweater.

I parked - the little red car was the only car in the parking lot - and got out, moving to the lookout. The sun was just rising, streaks of pink and yellow rising around the white-gold sun.

It was beautiful, with the water rushing down the gorge and my lungs full of dampened air. My mind wandered off, completely relaxed. It felt good to be here by myself, with no one to make noise and distract me from the beauty of the place. I'd brought a book, and some food I'd bought from some little cafe on the way out of Vegas, so I decided to wait around for a while. No rush.

After the sun rose, I roused myself, pulling my consciousness back to this reality. Six in the morning; Spazz was still going to be out for at least six hours.

I curled up on the bench, and cracked open the psychological thriller in my lap, the food sitting beside me.

I passed hours that way, barely conscious of the sun moving and rising in the sky. There were no clouds at all, and the book was riveting.

I read the last page, and clapped the book shut with a contented sigh, snacks gone. My phone informed me it was near noon.

Maybe I could check out that national park, to the north? Spazz would still be out and I didn't exactly feel like going back into Las Vegas for a few hours, just to go casino-crawling again later tonight.

I jumped back into the Subaru, arms sun warmed and slightly red. I'd forgotten to bring sunscreen.

I checked my phone, and figured that the hour and a half drive would be nice.

There was even a small town on the way, for a quick lunch break before I travelled into the national park. Probably a pee break too.

Mission City, it was called.

* * *

My heart was pounding as I slammed on the brakes, rubber squealing as I lurched to a halt. That man had just fallen – the one I had been watching because he looked slightly...off.

I jumped out of my car, instantly lamenting the fact that I didn't have anything to assist in assessing him. My stethoscope was back in Canada.

My professional mask washed over me. I was checking his carotid pulse, asking him in a loud voice if he was alright. A few quick slaps to the cheeks showed nothing, and his skin was grey. There was a loud noise to the left, but I didn't look up.

No pulse. Shit. I spent another second to make sure, and then pulled him a little more straight, before starting chest compressions. I'd just seen him fall – most likely a sudden stroke or heart attack.

I did thirty compressions, and as I moved to give him two breaths, I was glancing around, looking for someone to assist me, someone to call 911 and get emergency services on board with this.

There was someone screaming and running. I waved a hand at her, as I switched to doing compressions again, calling out.

"Help me, I need someone here!"

More people were running past, but I didn't spend any time in speaking to them. Instead, I fumbled my phone from my pocket, taking precious seconds to do so. I dialled and gave him two breaths, lifting his jaw upwards as I did so.

What was wrong with these people? Why didn't they come and help me? Surely a man fallen wasn't as terrifying as they seemed to think.

I needed an AED, but there wasn't anyone to spell me off while I did so – he couldn't just lie here, that would mean even less oxygen to his brain.

The operator was a female, professional and cold. "What is the nature of your emergency?"

"I've got a man – mid-fifties, I think, no pulse, no respirations Currently doing CPR at..." I squinted at the street sign. "Fifty-second and Main Ave, Mission City. I need an ambulance, stat."

"How long have you been doing CPR?"

Three sets of compressions, at around fifteen seconds each... "Around a minute."

"Did you witness him collapse?"

"Yes," I huffed out.

"Do you know the victim?"

"No." I switched to doing breaths.

"Ambulance has been dispatched, please stay on the line and at the site. Do you have assistance?"

"No," I huffed out, doing more compressions after the breaths.

"What is your name?"

My heart was pounding, keeping up with the compressions and my arms were starting to get a little sore. Adrenaline was still racing through me.

"Natasha Ivanova, I'm a registered nurse from Canada."

"Please hold, Natasha."

"Sure thing," I replied, clicking the phone to speaker and placing it on the ground near the man's head.

I was trying to glance around more, but nothing was jumping out at me. There was a lot of background noise, noise that didn't really seem to fit with a busy time during the week. It almost sounded like explosions. Had this man come from there?

What good luck I had come into town for a bathroom break when I had – no one else was even coming near here. A few were still running by, clad in nice business-casual dress and high heels. Men with briefcases lunged past, panting and sweating. Comb-overs flopped in the wind.

What was happening? Mission City seemed to be going to hell. This couldn't be a typical Wednesday.

I grabbed a random person who got too close – her eyes were white-rimmed and terrified.

"What's going on?" She shook me off and tried to run, breath rushing out in horrified gulps.

The next person I grabbed who was running past was a man, who managed to tell me, "Run, you idiot, run!"

At that point, jets were flying over the city, and the noise was incredible. I flicked an irritated glance upwards, before watching the man again. He ripped free, taking off again, running back, trying to get away from whatever was on the streets ahead of me.

I shook the knowledge from my mind; this man was my priority, not whatever was happening on Fifty-Second Street.

A boy ran across the street, and I glanced up as a massive metallic crash echoed, making my ears hurt. Blue flashed in my vision, and I blinked in bewilderment. My hands never faltered on the downed man's chest. I needed an AED, stat. Where to get one, with no help?

I snatched at another man, but he dodged my attempt and pelted down the street. As my temper frayed, English started to decay.

"дерьмо́," I hissed, assessing my options.

This man needed an AED, and I needed a helper. My arms were starting to get sore, and the emergency dispatcher wasn't getting me a damn ambulance. The muscles in my upper stomach were sore.

I growled low in my throat, muttering some less-than savoury curses my babushka had favoured as I shoved down hard on his sternum, interlocked fingers sore.

Why was this taking so long?! I shot a conflicted look down the street, and my eyes caught on an ambulance. Perfect. I hollered, waving my arms. A few stragglers chugged past me, shrieking the entire way, something about monsters.

That ambulance would have an AED, and other medical equipment. This man needed immediate assistance, hell, he needed to be in a hospital.

The ambulance raced past, no lights on. It was strange looking - a lime-green, big wheeled thing.

I swore viciously as it ripped past, missing the street. "Hey, you су́ка, get back here!"

Taking another glance at my patient, I raced up the car-strewn road towards the ambulance. I needed it back with my patient! It had already been ten minutes, brain damage was already happening.

It felt good to run, to allow that adrenaline some outlet. I managed to round the corner, and halted dead at the sight before me. A black… thing… was standing in the street, head even with the street lights, glowing blue on the end of it's hands. Something blue flashed in pulses at a thing that looked like a helicopter gone wrong. A man in military fatigues and riding a motorcycle roared past, whooping as he slid under the helicopter.

What had I just stumbled into? A movie set? I collected my thoughts, after a split second of shock. I needed an AED, that was still my priority. And that thing was an ambulance.

I raced forwards, arms working in tandem with my legs, running hard toward the ambulance.

Cupping my hands around my mouth, I hollered at it, hopefully reaching the people inside. "Hey! You got an AED? I have a patient who needs it!"

No answer. I made it to the door of the ambulance, grabbing the door handle and pulling on it, squinting past the tinted window. I couldn't see a person, and when the door opened, I was taken aback.

The door was only open for a moment, but I knew what I had seen. No one was in the cab. I could see the leather seats, the slight grit of dirt on the dashboard. What?

The door slipped from my numb fingers and slammed shut. The ambulance took off, lights going. I gaped after it, before my brain caught up.

No person in it didn't mean that it didn't have an AED. I still needed that AED.

I raced after it again. "дерьмо́," I hissed again through my teeth as I chugged forwards, heart pounding.

The ambulance paused and I came to the back door. I was about two blocks away from my patient, and time was running out. I could feel the time draining away like grains of sand.

My fingers tore the back of the ambulance open, and there was shudder beneath my feet as I jumped inside, swiftly tearing the cloth pack the AED was in off the wall and out the door, leaving the door to slam behind me as I ran back towards my patient. Chunks of falling concrete were smashing around me, but I was intent. There was a weird noise from behind me, but I put it out of my mind. I needed to get back to my patient, he was dead, I needed to get back before too much brain damage occurred.

As I ran, toting the pack carefully, I felt my heart pounding in my stomach.

Part of me knew that my patient was going to have brain damage at this point. But I couldn't just give up, I was made of sterner stuff than that.

I slipped to my knees beside the patient, breath heaving as I pulled open the kit, waiting for it to beep to life. As it did so, the noises around me blurred out - once in a while, the loud scream of a crazed woman would slice into my brain, or the noise of gunfire, but I wasn't going to listen to any of that. No.

A boy's loud scream washed through the air and a loud screech of metal washed through the air. It died away slowly, and a girl's shriek crashed through.

The man lay deathly still under me, shirt cut open and patches attached to his skin. The crisp voice attached to the AED informed me that another shock was advised, and to stand back.

I did so, checking automatically for someone to tell to stand back, so they didn't touch him. No one was in the area, and it was very silent. I grabbed my phone, and the woman was asking if anyone was there.

The voice informed me politely that it was 'scanning' and then told me to halt CPR, no more shocks necessary.

My breath was still fast.

"Yeah, I'm here, I got an AED, it's informed me that no more shocks are necessary."

"We're receiving a large amount of calls from your area, do you know what's happening?"

"No, I know that I need an ambulance here, now!"

Her voice was clipped and professional again. "We're doing our best. However, the area seems to be blocked off with rubble and police."

What. Another Russian curse slipped out. The ground rumbled and explosions rocked the air, shockwaves rippling through the earth.

"This man is going to have another heart attack unless he gets to a hospital!" I nearly shriek into the phone - I hate losing patients.

"We're doing our best," she placated blandly.

Damn it.

"Right now that looks pretty horrible," I growled, heart still pumping from my mad dash. Loud shrieking echoed through the air.

My phone jangled with another call.

I checked who was calling, and Amy had changed her name again in my phone. Unless I had some other Magical Genie who regularly called me.

"Yeah?" I asked, checking his carotid pulse. He was still completely unconscious, but the pulse was there, thin and weak against my fingertips. I kept an eye on him, wishing I had oxygen to bolster his brain, wishing that he was already in a hospital with advanced medical supplies.

"Oh my fucking- what the hell?! Where are you, Nova?! Do you know how concerned I was when I woke up - huge hangover, by the way, ow ow ow, why'd you let me drink that much? - and you're totally gone?! Where the hell are you?"

I debated how to tell her I'd somehow wandered into a war zone, a guy had died in front of me, ambulances had no drivers and I had only come here for a pee break.

"I'm in Mission City."

Her voice went up a good octave. "What!? That place is all over the fucking news, Nova, and not in a 'we had the largest litter of puppies in the world born here,' you idiot! What the hell are you doing? Are you safe? No limbs detached - although you might like that, you kinky girl - are you okay, oh my gosh, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay," I said, a small smile curling one lip. "Spazz."

"You jerk, holy shit, I was so worried about you!"

"Spazz, I'm fine."

"The news is going crazy!" she said, bulldozing right over my reassurance. "There's freaking military jets over the city, like, actual jets and they're firing, you're not safe - what the hell are you doing in Mission City?!"

"Helping. An old guy collapsed in front of me. No pulse, had to help."

"You're kidding. Nova, we got out of Canada for my twenty-first, not for you to go find the nearest dude who needed nursing back to health!"

I bristled slightly, although the man I was watching had some more colour to his face. There was some human noises from around the corner, but no people in sight. Someone was crying.

"No, he literally collapsed right in front of me, you know I have to help, Spazz."

"You and your bleeding heart," she muttered, whimpering as her head was probably hurting.

"You should drink some more water - I'll be back to the hotel pretty soon, promise," I said.

"Nova, I swear, if I hang up and you get blown up by a jet, I will hunt you down and kill you."

"I promise to haunt you, Spazz. Gotta go, savin' lives."

"You better," she growled teasingly. Then, right before she hung up, she blurted out another wish for me to stay safe.

I smiled, before it washed off my face. Thoughts were racing through my mind. There was a huge possibility that other people were in danger, and I was just wasting time with this person. But I had developed a possessive relationship towards him - I had brought him back, I didn't want to just leave and let him die again. But I had nothing to really help, and I would be needed for triaging.

There would definitely be injured people.

I bit my lip before deciding decisively. I touched his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, I'll come back and check on you, I promise," I told his still face, grey-tinted skin looking pallid and sallow.

Tongue thick in my mouth, the bitter taste of defeat washing through, I checked if there was another set of pads in the AED kit - there was. I packed it up swiftly, and gathered it up, into my arms. Moving swiftly, I trotted towards the human noises I could hear, wishing for a massive backpack of supplies I could cart about.

A woman was crumpled just around the corner, dark hair messy and escaping her bun. Blood streaked her face and tear-tracks trailed down, her eyes pink and wet. One of her legs was at a funny angle - ninety degrees to the knee, clearly broken.

Nothing I could do for her. I checked her pupils, blown wide open. Shock. Her breathing was fast, and her face was chalky-yellow pale. Triaging would put her at a level three.

She was moaning and holding her upper thigh. There was no blood around her on the ground, but she had some scrapes on her hands and face. Maybe she'd fallen.

"You okay?" I asked, crouching to her level. "What's your name?"

She continued moaning, face contorted.

"I'm Natasha, I'm a nurse. Help is coming, okay? What's your name?" I touched her shoulder. She blinked at me, and nodded, holding her leg with a death grip.

"Georgie," she whispered, after clearing her throat.

"Georgie." I smiled. "Stay strong. I need to go check others."

Dark eyes flashed to panic as I stood up again. One bloody hand rested on my arm, leaving a red stain.

I smiled again to reassure her. "I need to go check if more people need help, I'll come back though."

She tightened her grip. "No, don't leave me, they're coming back."

"Who?" I asked.

"The aliens, they're coming back."

Concussion, maybe? No way to check pupils, only altered thoughts. Maybe a level two instead.

Thoughts of the ambulance with no driver washed through my head, the helicopter with issues. The guy who had some serious thrill issues, racing his bike under the 'copter.

Was that what she had seen? But that couldn't be aliens.

She did have a head wound, so it was possible that she had a concussion, entirely plausible.

"Did you hit your head?"

She hesitated, then shook her head. "No, I didn't - don't leave me."

"I've got to check others," I said, patting her shoulder comfortingly, looking at her.

"It hurts," she whimpered.

"I know," I said, gaze flicking to her broken leg. "Be strong, okay, Georgie?"

She took a deep breath, and nodded.

"Good girl, help's coming, okay? Help's coming."

She nodded again, hands going back to her thigh as her jaw clenched and she moaned in pain. I wished again for a backpack of medical supplies - gauze, pain killers, saline to clean wounds, bandaging to close wounds, needles to give medications.

I moved forwards, and a man in military fatigues caught my eye. I trotted toward him, eyes instantly picking up the amount of blood around him.

There was some serious bleeding, and he was deathly pale. His dark skin was an ashen grey.

I raced forwards, checking his pulse. He had a faint one, and he grinned at me.

"Got the damn alien, ma'am."

More talk of aliens, really? Geez, maybe it was true. However ludicrous it sounded.

"Hush, soldier. Try to keep your blood in your body, fight more aliens later. Where are you bleeding?"

He tried to sit up, and a wince crossed his face. "Ouch, oh, damn that stings."

Wryly, I helped him sit up and supported him. His whole back was wet, red streaking the surface behind him. "Not doing so well on keeping the blood inside, soldier."

Checking his back, I winced. Definitely level two, working on being a level one. Maybe he'd even be black tagged, depending on how many other people were injured.

"That nice?" he said, dryly.

"Oh, yeah," I said. "Lay down on your belly, please. I want to try and stop this bleeding."

When he seemed to be hesitating, my cheerful facade dropped slightly and I 'assisted' him in lying down.

"I like a woman with some spunk," he gasped, face turned to the side. I peeled the back of his shirt up, and he hissed.

Pulling the scissors from the AED pack I had plunked down, I snipped up the back of the shirt and drew in a breath as the scissors became bloody and his skin was revealed.

"So, soldier, you've got some serious lacerations here. Wish I had some gauze."

"Sorry ma'am," he rasped, voice weaker. "Fresh out of gauze."

I needed something to put pressure on the wound, to slow the bleeding. He was losing too much blood.

With a grimace, I grabbed the piece of cloth I'd cut off his back, and started to apply pressure. With any luck at all, I'd be able to slow the bleeding enough to keep him from dying on me. Possibility of infection was definitely higher now, but there was nothing for it. Infection, or bleeding out.

"I'm Carlos," he grunted, pain lacing his voice.

"Natasha," I returned. "I'd shake your hand, but… I'm a little busy."

A laugh shuddered through his chest, and he winced in pain. "I'll shake your hand once you've saved my life. I'll even spring for dinner."

"Less talk, more concentrating on staying alive."

My mind was racing a thousand miles a second, wondering what I could be doing that I wasn't.

Stopping bleeding, preventing infection (yeah, not happening), keeping him conscious.

There was the distinctive sound of an ambulance, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

The man tensed up. "Alien," he muttered.

"What?" I asked. It was the same Hummer I had hunted down for the AED. "It's an alien?" I asked in disbelief. "No driver, yeah, but alien?"

He nodded and groaned again.

"Wow. And to think I broke into an alien."

He was startled into a laugh. "What?"

I kept my hands steady. "Don't move, you're bleeding. I needed an AED and it was an ambulance. Easy."

"You're crazy," he muttered.

Ruefully, I smiled. "Well, if I'd known it was an alien, I might not have broken into its behind and stolen its equipment."

He laughed again, and I scolded him for moving.

The ambulance paused beside us, and fell apart. It had two legs, two arms and a head, with hands.

My hands stayed steady on his back, although inside I was trembling.

With all the confidence I could muster, I looked at the alien-robot-Hummer. "Want your AED back?"

* * *

**Author's Note:** To any true-Russian speakers, I apologize. xD Tasha was very insistent that she be allowed to swear in Russian, so... ce la vie.

To my (Googled) understanding, дерьмо́ (der-mo) is not exactly serious swearing – and hot damn if Russian isn't full of awesome swearing! дерьмо́ means shit. So, not seriously horrible. (Go look up some awesome ones, if you want~).

су́ка (soo-ka)- bitch

And that blather about triaging and levels and stuff near the end is based on the Canadian ED Triage and Acuity Scale (google it if you want) which wouldn't technically be used for this, she'd actually be tagging people, but she was starting to figure out there was a lot more people than she envisioned. If there was only a few, then the hospital one works. But for an emergency thing like Mission City, triaging would be happening. Which is black, red, yellow, green and white tags. Look 'em up if you're curious!

Just so you guys know, the medical stuff isn't going to be a super-relevant role in the story. Right now it's just Tasha being Tasha. :)

And the category is so general because a lot happens. A lot. I have plans for some sort of romance later on, but it's not going to be a main point of this story. (as far as I know...)

Updating at the moment looks like it's going to be once a month or so... Not much free time anymore.


	2. Chapter 2: Agent Sphincter

**CHAPTER 2: AGENT SPHINCTER**

* * *

I'd been trapped in this room for hours now, and had explained my involvement in Mission City about five times. A man had come in, official in his suit and tie, and taken my cellphone, the AED I'd still been packing and my wallet. Even my car keys had been taken. Amy wasn't going anywhere without those, and I wasn't sure how much longer I'd be in this room.

Someone had brought me a plate of donuts and a cup of black coffee, horribly strong. I'd eaten one, a Boston Cream that had been slightly stale. My stomach growled, but I didn't want to eat more sugar and fat. This was frustrating; what was I even being held for?

As far as I could piece together, there was a robotic car that some people considered to be an alien loose in Mission City. Arguably, I had been involved.

I'd thought that all I needed to do would be sign some sort of confidentiality agreement, agree not to say anything about what I had seen, and be free to go. But apparently not. I'd been in here for hours and hours, since four in the afternoon and it was pushing midnight now. I was starting to think that I'd been forgotten about and left to rot. The door was locked, and a camera had its beady red light focused on me.

That was ridiculous; as if I had any information that they would want. I was a nurse, for heaven's sakes, I had just been doing what I could. I was starting to get really pissed off; there was no reason to keep me here. I was completely harmless.

Standing up, I stretched loosely, working out the kinks in my legs and back and sighed. Moving over to the door, I rapped on it, aggravation making my face blank.

"Any news on when I'm getting out of here?" I asked, voice clear and annoyed. My hip rested on the wall beside the door, and there was no answer from anyone outside. I checked the knob; locked.

If I had been left in here while the suits had left for the night, I was going to be seriously pissed off. Someone would hear about it; that was for sure.

Amy was probably going crazy by now; there was no doubt that I'd have dozens of calls missed from her when I got my phone back. My stomach growled again, and I forcefully shoved the idea of more donuts from my mind.

* * *

Starscream spiralled away from Earth, processors whirling around the new information he had. Megatron was dead. The Allspark was gone.

He was the leader now.

_He_ was the leader of the Decepticons. All the things that Megatron had done to him, all the slag that he'd done had paid off. He was the leader.

Plans raced through his processors. He always thought best when he was flying.

He needed to plan how he would break the news to the rest of the Decepticons.

As he flew away from the Earth, thrusters firing, he swivelled to aim for Soundwave's location on Mars. Soundwave would need to let the troops know. Starscream was unsure how many of the Decepticons would follow him - Megatron had been the charismatic one, and after decavorns of appearing as a cowardly, challenging second, he would be a shock.

But his plans would have worked. He knew they would have - Megatron was so focused on Optimus Prime, fighting him and defeating him, that he disregarded plans that actually made sense. Starscream had had a shot at Prime many times - could have had Skywarp jump in, grab him, and drop him from thirty thousand feet and that would have been the end of that.

Megatron would never listen.

He streaked toward Mars, thinking about what he had to do. He needed Soundwave for his side if he wanted to keep the troops securely in communication. The Autobots had Blaster, and he needed Soundwave.

Without Soundwave, the whole thing would have fallen apart eons ago.

If he couldn't get Soundwave, he'd need to offline Blaster, even the odds.

So he needed the creepy fragger and his damnable minicons. And he needed the carrier securely on his side, not double-dealing him. Unfortunately, the carrier had no reason to really trust him, considering how many times he'd messed with the mech and tried to blame him for something that had gone wrong so he wouldn't be in Megatron's crosshairs.

He had to try, because Soundwave was the instrument holding the entire army together.

Within two joors, he was landing on Mars. Nothing like the silly humans who lived on Earth, he had internal heat shielding. It was a flaw that the Autobots didn't have very many seekers - they had to rely on their protoform to enter a planet and were stuck there unless they had a ship.

Which they didn't have. And if he had his way, he'd leave Prime stranded on the planet. Soundwave could likely string up a blockade that would block Earth for around a vorn, or he could send in some seekers to finish the job.

Yes. He would send out that order right after he talked to Soundwave. Starscream landed, transforming in mid air and hovering, thrusters on hot. He didn't need to fire them as intensely as on Earth as the gravity was much lighter on this little red planet.

Soundwave was waiting for him, or rather, one of his minicons was waiting. The felinoid, a sleek black form with silvery accents stared at him and his flashy silver form.

Ravage didn't speak to him, merely looked.

Irritated, he snapped at the black minicon. "Where's your master?"

Ravage flipped an ear at him and curled his balancing appendage around his front legs, completely ignoring him now.

Starscream glared at the little minicon. On a comm. line, he talked to Soundwave.

_-Starscream here, I have news of the battle on Earth.-_

_-Yes?- _Soundwave sent back, dry and flat.

Starscream had to stop himself from puffing up with pride - Soundwave was allegedly extremely loyal to Megatron, from the time of the gladiatorial rings until now. He needed to handle this delicately.

Not screech out that Megatron was dead. Starscream landed, puffs of red dust floating up. They floated in the light for a while longer than the dirt on Earth had.

_-Lord Megatron was killed attempting to retrieve the Allspark. A _human_ managed to destroy his spark.-_

Soundwave was silent for a moment. Then, _-Lord Megatron confirmed offline?-_

Starscream sent him an affirmative. He wasn't sure what Soundwave was going to do now; he needed to show his hand a little.

_-I'm the leader now.-_

He walked into view of the carrier, the normally gleaming blue armour covered with a thin film of red dust. Soundwave had created a small area to protect his minicons. It was a rickety little structure of metal, just protecting them from the wind and dust storms that characterized Mars' weather.

The cold wasn't as much a factor - if the minicons were too cold with their smaller heating systems, they'd just hop into Soundwave's chest.

Soundwave was tucked into a corner, polishing the purple minicon's arm with a small cloth. Ravage padded in behind Starscream, curled up beside Soundwave's arm, and stared at Starscream intensely.

Starscream took a step forward, trying to judge the carrier's reaction. Soundwave was a master of concealing his feelings on any matter - Starscream was not. But he was perceptive.

Soundwave hadn't replied in more than twenty astroseconds, and Starscream was impatient.

_-Well?-_

Soundwave replied out loud after another ten astroseconds. "Starscream, now leader?"

"Yes," he preened.

"Starscream requires Soundwave's assistance," the blue mech continued, watching Starscream with his red visor.

Starscream couldn't hide his small wince. Yes, he needed the communications expert to follow him if he had a chance of getting the rest of the troops to follow him, as well as keeping the Decepticons ahead of the Autobots.

Soundwave stared at him for a long moment.

"Starscream as leader projects Decepticons losing within two vorns."

Stung, he could only gape at the silent carrier. He recovered swiftly, glaring at Soundwave.

"Two vorns? Check your data again, Soundwave."

Soundwave looked coolly back at him.

"I have rechecked the data. Starscream has neither control, power or charisma to enforce leadership. Autobots will take advantage of confusion."

"So you will abandon your Decepticon eons of service, abandon the cause?" he shrieked, vocalizer starting to slip into his Vosnian vocal patterns.

Soundwave merely turned his attention back to the little purple one.

Starscream was angry, that Soundwave would so easily turn on him, on the cause.

"What will you do, who will take you? Surely not the _Autobots_," he sneered.

"Soundwave will find Frenzy."

"And then? What then, what can you do? You're wanted on multiple worlds, no one will hire you, and Cybertron is a barren wasteland!"

"Soundwave will survive," he said simply.

Rumble glared at Starscream, before smirking. "Aww, Screamy's scared! He's aww awone in the big galaxy."

"Rumble, desist," Soundwave said to the small mech.

Starscream clenched a fist, anger racing through his circuitry. Soundwave didn't think he could take control of the Decepticons? Megatron had told him the same thing, and he knew that he could, he knew that he could do it.

"I'll be fine," he hissed, wings flaring out as he took a step forward. Ravage's form tightened as he eyed the Seeker warily. Soundwave laid a hand on the felinoid's back calmingly.

Starscream continued. "I'll prove it to everyone that I can be a better leader than Megatron ever was!"

Rumble snorted. "How're you gunna do that when all you ever did was cower ta Megatron?"

Starscream growled at the impudent little mech, and Soundwave put a firm hand on his minicon.

"Rumble, enough," he said firmly. Starscream snarled at the little menace.

"You little - as if you'd do any better!"

Rumble smirked up at him. "I've got Soundwave and he's better than you at everything," he taunted.

Starscream nearly lost his temper and Ravage was getting ready to pounce, Rumble's optics gleaming in anticipation and amusement at Starscream's poor temper.

Soundwave spoke one word, laden with authority.

"Enough." All three, minicons and Seeker, froze. Soundwave calmly placed Rumble on the ground, stowing the cleaning cloth in his subspace.

"Soundwave will not follow Starscream. Starscream has nothing further to add."

The Seeker seethed at the calm words, wings moving up and down with his irritation.

"You refuse the Decepticon ways?"

"Negative. Soundwave will not follow Starscream as a leader," Soundwave said, watching the Seeker carefully. Starscream would try to beat the carrier into submission if he thought it would help, but Soundwave was not swayed by aggression - he'd seen Megatron try, only once.

Megatron had nearly been offlined in that fight. Megatron had been going to offline one of his minicons - the one that Barricade stole, that Starscream had assisted in stealing - and Soundwave had attacked without mercy. Ravage had had his claws in Megatron's helm, Rumble had shattered his knee, and Soundwave had ended the fight with a pulse cannon to Megatron's spark chamber.

This had not gone over well. The next twenty vorns had shown Soundwave the error of his ways - or it had supposed to have. Really, the only reason that he wasn't offlined by Megatron was because Megatron had known Soundwave to be too valuable to destroy. Well, for defending something that he would die for.

Starscream couldn't force Soundwave to follow him. Simple as that. He forced down his anger, nodding courteously to Soundwave and his evil little horde of minions.

"If you change your mind, you know where to find me," he said as a parting message.

"Soundwave will not change mind."

He glared at the carrier, before launching from the planet's surface. His thrusters glowed a bright red, and dust shot into the little metal shed Soundwave had created. Rumble was squawking beneath him, but the noise swiftly fell into silence as he transformed and soared into the sky.

Damn Soundwave! He'd show him, he'd show the arrogant carrier that he could be the best leader the Decepticons - no, the Transformers themselves - had ever seen!

Next step. He still needed supporters, and without Soundwave, that was made a little harder. The troops were used to hearing Soundwave's tones and files coming to them, they weren't going to be happy to hear him on the comm. lines.

He had the Seekers; that was nearly guaranteed.

The rest though, he needed the support of the rest. Soundwave was only one mech, the Decepticon army was made up of thousands of mechs.

Unfortunately, he knew that communication was vital in running an army.

Perhaps a trade. He'd need to communicate with Barricade.

There _was_ something that Soundwave would do almost anything for. As Starscream spiralled into the atmosphere, red fire coating his wings, he plotted.

His communication arrays weren't powerful enough to reach Earth from Mars, especially not without TC or Warp. TC had the most advanced communication arrays of the three of them.

He sailed back toward the disgusting little planet filled with mud. He had a meeting with a police car.

* * *

Three days. I had been in this room, periodically assisted to the bathroom, fed coffee and fast food for three days. Whenever I demanded to know what was going on, or what was happening to me, I got the same answer. "Classified. You're being held until the President and Secretary of Defense decide what to do with you."

"Make me sign a ёбаный document; isn't it illegal to hold someone for three days?"

No answer.

Finally, as I was considering creative ways to bust out of the room, to hell with the consequences, a suited man came into the room, introducing himself as Simmons. He was strange looking, with twitchy eyes and curly hair. He spoke in fast, clipped tones. I wondered at some sort of mental deficiency - if he wasn't taking _some_ sort of medications, he probably _should_ be.

"Why am I still here?" I asked, fighting to keep a lid on my temper, after three days of silence and governmental bureaucracy. The man flicked a glance at me, slinging himself into the cheap plastic chairs I was sick of, and plunking a thick stack of papers on to the table. I stood by the door, arms crossed and a petulant glare on my face.

He ignored me, instead sorting out his papers into smaller piles. I continued glaring at his head.

"I don't have all day, sit down, Nurse Jackie," he grunted, smacking a pile of the paper on to the table repeatedly.

My eyes narrowed. "My name is Natasha Ivanova."

"You could say your name was Cleopatra, I'm not interested. Sit."

There was clearly not going to be a wonderful relationship here. I already disliked the man, and I barely knew his name.

He continued shuffling the papers into even more piles, ignoring me. My pride was kicking in, and I wasn't going to sit down until he asked me personally.

The man huffed out a breath. "Fine, stay uneducated, stay here in the lovely jail cell; see if I come back."

He started to stand up, and I processed his words. With a tightening of my jaw, I sat in the plastic chair, back straight and stiff. My pride wasn't worth being in this room any longer.

"Explain to me why I have been held here for three days," I said lowly, levelling my eyes at him.

From his briefcase, he pulled out a little tool with a meter and an annoying beeping sound. "Mmhm, definite contact."

He slapped a smaller sheaf of papers and swirled them to face me, the beeping tool disappearing into his suit.

"Is all the information recorded in these papers the truth?" he said swiftly, nearly slurring the words together.

A sigh blew out from my lips. "Yes, everything is the truth. I saw an alien robot, stole part of its backside and triaged a lot of people."

He started tapping a pen on the table, the noise echoing through the small, cramped room. "Question now, is what you're going to do when we let you loose. Any contacts in Iraq, Iran that you wanna tell me about?"

I gave him a flat look. "I'm a Canadian RN. You've checked my history, and I don't know anyone from Iraq or Iran."

"Or that's what you want us to think," he countered swiftly. I throttled my impulse to strangle him.

"I give insulin and morphine all day. So scary," I mocked.

He gave me a stink-eye and then swirled another small stack of papers in front of me. I instantly recognized my _babushka_.

"You recognize this woman?"

I raised one eyebrow. "Let me guess - Russian mafia _babushka_?"

"You're a real smartass, huh? Sure you wanna stick with your answer, no changes in your thinking?"

I rested my chin in my hand, wondering when this buffoon would be done. His attempt at being intimidating was pretty tame. I'd seen more intimidating cases in the ICU. Doctors could get very intense.

"No changes."

There was a hard smack from the door, and the tall guy stood, shooting a look at me, still sitting in the cheap blue plastic chair.

He stepped outside, and I considered checking the papers he'd left, but decided against it. He'd probably slap me with some sort of charge and throw me into a cell. No thanks.

I leaned back, tapping my fingers, when the man was back, with another sheaf of paper. He slipped it down in front of me.

"You checked this kid out, tell me what you did."

I glanced down at the boy I remembered from a few days ago - he'd been staggering along, blood streaking his fingers and stomach, brown hair wild and face gritty. Pulse and blood pressure had been high, pupils blown wide with adrenaline, respirations fast. No obvious trauma, I'd disregarded him.

"He had a simple name… Sean? S-S-something."

There had been a girl too - a couple inches shorter than the boy, still slightly taller than me. Although that wasn't hard.

She'd been very striking, as I recalled. Slightly Native looking, blue eyes and very skinny.

"Witwicky, Sam," the agent in the suit supplied in an irritated voice.

I nodded, taking in his face. "Yeah, I remember him." I supplied quickly, stating all the assessment data I could remember about the boy.

"I don't remember exact numbers, but he was very difficult to keep still, kept insisting he was fine. Weird burns on his hands, in patterns and whorls - kid didn't want me to look at his hands. Quick speech. Triaged him as low priority and let him go. He was gone right after that."

I blew out a breath. "Why?"

"You're not classified to know that," he said quickly.

"Fine," I growled. "So what do I have to tell you to let me out of here?"

"I'm asking the questions here, not you, Nurse Jackie," he spat out.

My temper was fraying. "Then ask the damn questions already."

"Or what?" he asked. His eyes glinted at me like a snake's.

My jaw was clenched hard enough to squeak when I ground my teeth. "Ask. Your. Questions."

"Temper, temper," he _tsked_, and I swore that I could feel my blood pressure spiking.

I sat in stony silence, fists clenched in front of me under the table as he shuffled his papers lazily, looking like he had all the time in the world. Like he hadn't made me wait for three days. Three days with no calls to my family or friend who I had travelled here with, and she definitely would know that I was missing.

He sighed as I waited, staring him down. I was taking deep breaths, trying to avoid ripping his head off as we stared at each other.

The tick of the clock was loud in my small interrogation room.

* * *

After an excruciating twenty minutes of waiting and watching, he finally spoke and a small surge of pride rose in me that I'd out waited him. Bastard.

He asked me more inane questions which I answered to the best of my ability and tried to keep my temper down. Agent Stiff-Sphincter definitely got some snarky answers though.

It ended up being that I could leave once I signed a stack of papers as tall as my ears. Each one had to be signed. I read each one carefully, not signing any, aware that Agent Stiff-Sphincter would try to screw me over in any way he could.

All of them revolved around what could happen to me if I broke confidentiality. One page detailed a possible job, and I cut my eyes up to Sphincter.

I lifted the sheet accusingly, shaking it slightly. "What's this?"

He sighed. "A piece of paper, lady, look, sign them and you can go home."

I tamped down my temper and spoke clearly. "This sheet says that if I agree, the US military can 'ask' me to come work for them on matters of 'NBE's.' And when I say 'ask' I mean 'tell.' What is an NBE? Why should I sign this?"

As I peered closer at the sheet, it also seemed that unless I signed this, the others were null and void as well.

"So for the next foreseeable future, or until I die, the US government owns my ass? Is that really what you're trying for here?" And, if I mentioned it to anyone, then I was liable to get put into an American prison.

Beady eyes glinted at me. "Sign the confidentiality ones."

"You can't tell me anything?"

"Not till you sign the papers, Jackie."

Another smoldering glare, but I did sign the papers.

He took a breath. "NBE's are the aliens." A pause. "We _do_ own your ass. We've owned it from the moment you touched NBE eleven. Sector Seven owns you. Get used to it, Nurse Jackie."

I glared, poking a finger into the pile of papers. "Not until I sign these."

A smirk. "And you aren't leaving until you do sign them."

"муда́к," I hissed. "This can't be fair," I said angrily. "This is extortion!"

"Never be able to prove it in court, Jackie."

"I won't do it, I'm not signing those."

"There's a job offer too," he said.

I glared. "I already have a job, in Canada as a nurse. I quite like it there."

"Well, you might not have one if you don't sign… and if you do, then we've got a job for you."

I was doomed.

"What kind of job?" I asked suspiciously. I wouldn't put it past Sphincter to have me cleaning his bathroom for a living.

"Read the papers."

I glared at him but did as he asked. As I scanned the papers, it became clear that already the US government was… working _with_ the aliens? Apparently the good NBE's - called _Autobots_ (lame name) - were concerned that the Decepticons had scattered across the continent and they needed to hunt the remaining ones down. Then they would leave Earth.

I asked Sphincter how I fit into this.

Apparently, they wanted a medic and since it was an experimental group, they wanted to keep the human who had seen the aliens firmly in their grasp. I'd already been exposed to their radiation and they wanted me around to see if I started growing extra limbs.

Well, that was what I pulled from his convoluted speech. Somehow, that ended up being me. I would be kept safe - as safe as I could be - but the more I heard, the more I cursed my adventurous nature. It sounded interesting and it would be like nothing I had ever done before. Well, patching wounds, yes. But it seemed like a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

The more I read and thought, the more I wanted to do it. It was only for a year. I'd considered travel nursing, going to the UK or Australia - I could just tell Amy that I'd been accepted. I didn't want to lie though.

And yet… I didn't _really _have a choice. Sphincter had made that perfectly clear. I was still pissed off that the military apparently owned me, and had spoken to my own country about this. If Canada had any reply to this blatant theft, I wouldn't hear of it. And since I had signed the damn confidentiality papers, I couldn't tell anyone about my dilemma. I was boxed in.

I asked Sphincter if he would be my boss. If so, there was no way in hell I'd do it. Until I had rotted in here for years and gone crazy and bloated with fast food. He shook his head.

I signed the bloody papers.

* * *

**Two Weeks Later**

* * *

Starscream leveled his null ray at the beaten black and white Decepticon. Barricade was looking worse for the wear; grit and dirt smeared his sides.

"Where's Soundwave's brat?"

"I don't know," Barricade rumbled. He looked like the Pit had come and claimed his spark.

Starscream shoved the ray gun closer to his spark, shoving it under the chest plating. Barricade shuddered, nervous energy tickling over his frame

"You _lost him_?" Starscream spat. "You stupid, incompetent grounder! How could you _lose_ him!"

"No! He was destroyed, by humans!" Barricade cowered back, the null ray shoving painfully into his sternum, sending up errors to his processor that indicated a shot from here would be lethal.

Starscream had to school his wings from twitching. This fragging moron had _lost_ his only chance at gaining Soundwave's compliance. His chance at leading the Decepticons was shrinking. Percentages were changing, and not in his favor.

"Where is he? And think carefully!" he added harshly, voice screeching into higher octaves with his disgust and rage. All his plans, all his dreams, and he was going to fail because one moron had lost a fragging minicon.

Primus.

"I lost him at the plant," Barricade finally rumbled. He sent over a set of coordinates, date and time to Starscream, who shoved his null ray harder into the cruiser's chest, cracking a fractured strut further with a screech of tortured metal. Barricade winced, leaning back further.

Starscream glared, then transformed into a jet and shot into the sky, thrusters glowing blue and white. He sailed to the location, making no efforts to hide himself. He'd seen what little the humans were capable of, and the Autobots had no method of stopping a jet.

Fools.

He alighted at the site, only breems later. The site was still destroyed; he could clearly see the craters in the concrete where that scout had smashed Barricade into the ground and caused his injuries.

No signs of Frenzy. Slag. It had been a long shot… His body swirled back into the air, thrusters transforming as he flipped into a jet and sailed into the darkening sky, thrusters carving a plume of grey smoke as he raced upward, gaining ground.

He _needed_ that minicon.

Starscream's considerable processors whirled through his options as he flew. Could the runt have managed to escape? Or had those pesky humans in black vans calling themselves S7 have gotten him?

He hacked into the American government, amused at how simple it was. Inferior species playing with forces they did not comprehend.

From there it was simple to access S7. He scrolled through their files, searching, searching - got him.

They had him in one of their facilities. But since S7 had been disbanded, by order of the leader of this country, they'd just gone deeper underground. But he had the location.

* * *

Starscream landed on Mars, red flurries of dust rising into the atmosphere. Soundwave was still on the planet, and his purple minicon was waiting with his hands on his hips.

"You came back, ya moron. What'cha got?"

"You know exactly what I have," Starscream rumbled. He didn't _like_ the little minicon at all. Sassy creature had pranked him too many times.

"Where is he?"

Starscream kept his processor blank. Soundwave could read processors - or at the least, the most superficial of thoughts - so he needed to make sure the telepath didn't rip the location from him. Luckily he had eons of experience, however it was still threatening.

"You'll know when I have the complete assurance of Soundwave that he's on _my_ team."

Rumble's hands slipped from his hips, assuming a threatening stance. "You don't want to do that," he threatened. "Makes boss slagged right off when mechs mess with us."

"I need him," Starscream said bluntly.

Rumble smirked. "We know you need us, Screamy, but we come as a package."

"Take me to Soundwave," he hissed, patience spent.

Rumble's smirk widened. "Fine, fine, didn't know you were so impatient to get it on with the boss. Although I don't think you're his type."

"Frag you," Starscream spat.

"No, frag you-," Rumble replied, red optics nearly glowing with his anger. "-if even _one _optic on Frenzy is scratched."

Unbidden, the thought of Frenzy's mangled body washed through his processor. At least his spark was intact. If it hadn't, then he wouldn't have even tried.

Rumble whirled, stalking off. Starscream followed, distaste for the dirt sullying his feet. Thick washes of dust oozed off his every step.

Soundwave was waiting, crouched over an energon distillery clearly cobbled together from some sort of rigging. Starscream's scientist processors analyzed it swiftly, coming to the conclusion that it would be functional, if only producing miniscule quantities of energon.

Or perhaps he was using it for high grade. That seemed rather frivolous of Soundwave, from what Starscream had observed over the millennia of working beside him.

"Inefficient design," he commented loftily.

Soundwave didn't turn to look at him, tapping something into place with small pulses.

Starscream was irritated at this lack of respect.

"I have your minicon," he said sharply. "I need you on my side, Soundwave."

He'd try appealing to Soundwave's loyalty programming.

"Loyal only to Lord Megatron and minicons," Soundwave said, rather wryly. Starscream wasn't sure if he was answering his question or his thoughts; it made him uneasy.

"Do not read my thoughts, Soundwave!"

"Thoughts clear to all who see Starscream," Soundwave countered. "Telepathy mods not necessary."

Soundwave turned from his work slowly, the felinoid minicon appearing from behind Starscream and stalking over to the rudimentary energon distillery. Starscream startled, guns coming online and thrusters nearly shooting him into the atmosphere; he hadn't even seen the minicon hiding behind him. Impressive stealth mods.

Fragger. "One vorn," he said swiftly, trying to cover his surprise at Ravage appearing out of nowhere. For a paranoid Decepticon who had only lived as long as he had from being hyper-alert, being surprised was a really bad thing.

The dusty blue mech looked at Starscream. "You bargain for Frenzy's return, conditional on Soundwave working for Starscream for period one vorn?"

A tight nod from the Seeker. "That's right."

Rumble grumbled something and Ravage hissed.

Starscream kept his body blank, not showing anything. Processor focused on the here and now, not where he had stashed the offline body.

Soundwave tilted his head, much like Ravage would. He wondered about quantum bleed-over, the result of five bonded mechs acquiring each other's habits. He knew he did some things like TC used to.

"Frenzy, requires repairs. Starscream, give materials to Soundwave. Give Frenzy to Soundwave, Soundwave will comply with Starscream for period one vorn."

Elation raced through Starscream's spark. He had Soundwave.

Maybe his plans weren't so far-fetched after all.

* * *

**AN: **Already, we have some intrigue! :)

**Russian**

муда́к - (moo-dak) - asshole

ёбаный - (yo-ba-neey) - fucking

babushka - Babushka is a grandmother in Russian. And also a headscarf. :)


End file.
